Lord Blencathra (Con)

My Lords, I had an amendment in this group but I withdrew it when I saw that other noble Lords had tabled an amendment that was superior to mine. So I rise to support some of their amendments and to express my concern about the new clauses proposed by the noble and learned Lord, Lord Falconer. I agree with my noble friend Lord Gove that, with a sense of decency and integrity, the noble and learned Lord has sought to bring forward a new clause that is superior to the old one. Nevertheless, I feel it falls short of what is required to protect the most vulnerable people who need assisted dying. The new clause presents the independent advocate as a safeguard: a final protective layer for those who may be isolated, frail or at risk of coercion. But, when one examines the detail and listens to the evidence from those who work daily with vulnerable adults, it becomes clear that these clauses are a bit inadequate and underpowered, and I feel that they are structurally incapable of doing the job that Parliament has been told they will do. The first fundamental question concerns the advocate envisaged in these clauses not being genuinely independent. The Bill allows the advocate to be appointed by the very system that is processing the assisted dying application. That is not independence; it is administrative proximity dressed up as protection. Those who work in safeguarding repeatedly warn that advocates must be structurally separate from the decision-making machinery, yet these clauses allow the advocate to be embedded within it. As one commentator put it, this risks creating a supportive facilitator, not a safeguard. Another warned that the advocate would become a procedural escort through the system, rather than a defender of the person’s rights. If the advocate’s role is to challenge, to probe, to question and to stand up for the person when others may be steering them, they cannot be beholden to the very bodies they may need to challenge. The second problem is that the advocate is given no meaningful powers. They cannot pause the process, require further assessment or insist on a specialist review. They cannot demand that coercion concerns be investigated. They cannot even require that their own concerns be acted on. An advocate without powers is a spectator and not a safeguard. The role has been described as a box-ticking presence—someone who can be noted in the file but whose objections can be politely ignored. If the advocate cannot intervene when something is wrong, the safeguard is a fiction. It is a comfort blanket for legislators, not a protection for the vulnerable. The third flaw is timing. Under the clauses tabled by the noble and learned Lord, Lord Falconer, the advocate appears after the key clinical assessments have been completed—after the capacity determination, after the voluntariness assessment and after the eligibility decision. By the time the advocate arrives, the train has already left the station. How can it be a safeguard when it is applied at the end of the process, when the opportunity to identify coercion or impaired capacity has largely passed? This is a final courtesy call, not a protective intervention. If the advocate is to protect the vulnerable, they must be involved before the decisive assessments, not after them. There is another weakness: the advocate is not even required to meet the person in person. They may rely on paperwork, remote contact or second-hand information. How can one detect coercion, fear, confusion, or subtle pressure through a file note? How can they test whether the person is speaking freely if they never see them face to face? One safeguarding specialist put it starkly: “If you do not meet the person, you are not an advocate, you are merely a reviewer of documents”. This is not a safeguard. It is an administrative gesture. Also, the advocate may not be trained for the complexity of assisted dying, which raises questions about competence. Advocates in other statutory regimes, such as the Mental Capacity Act or the Care Act, receive training for those specific frameworks. Yet these clauses from the noble and learned Lord, Lord Falconer, contain no requirement for specialist training, accreditation or expertise. Therefore, we could end up with advocates who are well-meaning but completely out of their depth. As another commentator said, “This is a role that requires the highest level of safeguarding skill, not a generic advocate with a generic toolkit”. If the advocate is to stand between a vulnerable person and an irreversible act, they must be equipped for that task. Finally, there is a danger that advocates can be used unintentionally to legitimise decisions made under systemic pressure. We all know the pressures: care home bed shortages; hospital discharge targets; workforce gaps; social care rationing; family exhaustion; and the subtle but real pressure not to be a burden on people. One expert warned that an advocate without power risks becoming “a witness to system pressure, not a counterweight to it”. If the advocate cannot challenge the system, the system will use the advocate to validate its decisions. That is the opposite of safeguarding. I pay tribute to the noble and learned Lord, Lord Falconer. His clauses are well-intentioned. He has sought to deliver on what the Delegated Powers Committee said but, as I have said, the clauses are structurally inadequate. They create the appearance of protection without the substance. They offer the language of safeguarding without the mechanics, thus giving Parliament false reassurance while leaving vulnerable people exposed. If we are to legislate for assisted dying —an irreversible act, taken by people who may be frail, frightened, isolated or under pressure—the safeguards must be real, not rhetorical.